


But You Knew That Already

by ioo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, they give each other hickeys, vague sexual content, very vague references to homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 09:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10828266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ioo/pseuds/ioo
Summary: "Do you want to kiss me, Iwa-chan?" Tooru asks.Hajime sighs."You're horrible. You know I do." Tooru tilts his head, chuckling softly."I like hearing you say it," he finally murmurs, his breath tickling Hajime's chin.





	But You Knew That Already

Tooru's volleyball uniform hangs right above Hajime's head, fluttering in the warm afternoon breeze. The bold number one across its chest ripples with each gust of wind. It smells like laundry detergent, even from where Hajime is lying down, and he tilts his head away from it, hoping to get a whiff of fresh air. 

He finds himself staring at Tooru instead of the sky, though both are bright and beautiful in the evening sunset, and the sight of his best friend does nothing to ease the burn in Hajime's eye. Tooru's shirt hangs off his shoulder, revealing a good portion of his back, from neck to shoulder blade, and Hajime considers pressing his lips to the bare skin, tracing the few freckles speckled across the dip of his shoulder, but he knows Tooru would berate him, if he did. He taps his fingers against the wood beneath him instead, impatient. It's warm under his touch, sun kissed from its time beneath a clear summer sky. He closely watches the way Tooru's muscle shifts beneath his skin when he leans back to give Hajime a curious look.

Hajime’s gaze travels from his shoulder to meet Tooru's, unwavering.

They remain as such, staring at each other for a moment, with nothing to distract them but the wind and the sound of crickets chirping off in the neighbour's garden, before Tooru smiles, tipping himself over until he topples into Hajime's lap. He wriggles closer, sliding his arms around Hajime's middle. Hajime slowly lets his hands wander from the floor to hold Tooru's hips.

"Do you want to kiss me, Iwa-chan?" Tooru asks. 

Hajime sighs.

"You're horrible. You know I do." There's a small pause as they stare each other down again, Hajime huffing in annoyance, Tooru unblinking. There is a mischievous curl to his lips, a teasing crinkle to the corner of his eyes, the one Hajime knows appears when Tooru is trying to rile him up. When Hajime does not rise to the bait, Tooru tilts his head, chuckling softly. 

"I like hearing you say it," he finally murmurs, his breath tickling Hajime's chin. When he pulls away, Hajime's hands feel cold and empty. 

He wonders when Tooru will let him act upon his wishes. Tooru runs his fingers down Hajime's neck, to his chest, and rests his hand right above where Hajime's heart beats. His eyes follow the movement of his own hand, fire burning behind those irises.

"How long can you wait?" Tooru queries, meeting his gaze once more and grinning down at him, wolfish. Hajime frowns. He knows his heart isn't beating any faster than normal, its been a long time since Hajime's felt any kind of nervous from Tooru's mere affectionate touches, but Tooru is still smiling, as if he's discovered a secret about Hajime not even Hajime himself knows, just from the rhythm of his heartbeat. 

It’s a possibility.

"However long it takes, I guess."

Tooru purses his lips, no doubt biting his tongue. "Soon," he finally says. "I promise.”

Hajime is about to retort that Tooru said the exact same thing yesterday, and the day before, when Tooru’s mother pops her head out of the window to call them both back inside with the promise of food. 

 

It takes until Hajime is pressing his palms together and uttering his thanks for Tooru's gaze to stop feeling like an iron rod pushing right into the flesh of Hajime’s chest. 

Tooru’s mother is still eating, and so is Tooru, but Hajime finds himself clearing up his plate, before they can say anything about it, and excusing himself. He has homework to do, he says, despite the fact that he finished it earlier in Tooru’s company, and Tooru knows that. 

Tooru’s mother feigns disappointment watching him leave, tells him to visit again, as if Hajime would ever refuse, but Tooru pouts, the one that tugs at the corners of his mouth until he looks like a kicked puppy, the one that he knows Hajime has trouble resisting. This time, Hajime doesn’t let it deter him. 

He makes his way to the genkan and slowly shucks off his slippers. They’re his, no longer guest slippers, ever since Tooru’s mother realised that Hajime’s visits were not a one time thing, not since the age of 8, and bought him his own pair. He eyes the fading dinosaur pattern on them absently, pushing his feet into his sneakers. He hears the soft scuff of Tooru’s slippers against the wooden floor. 

“You know I have to go home,” Hajime claims, without turning around. He hears Tooru kick against the ground, a nervous habit. 

“I know.”

Hajime ties off his shoelaces and pushes himself up, picking up his bag from the floor and slinging it over his shoulder. He turns around, finding himself looking straight at the sun, or at least, he feels like it. Through squinted eyes, he sees Tooru smiling at him, a soft, gentle curl of his mouth he normally saves for when they’re hiding in Hajime’s room, away from prying gazes and tight lipped smiles.

Hajime _tries_ to smile, but it ends up being the kind he feels awkward giving Tooru, because it’s not as sincere as he’d like it to be. He doesn’t want to smile, not when he can’t lean over and press his lips to Tooru’s cheeks, over and over, until Tooru understands completely that Hajime doesn’t _want_ to leave, not in a million years, but he has to. 

Instead, he turns around, muttering a quick “bye”, before he’s out the door and stepping onto the street, wondering when he’ll get to kiss Tooru. 

 

Tooru’s always teased him by saying that Hajime is the kind of person to wear his heart on his sleeve, but Hajime doesn’t like that idiom. It puts blood everywhere and makes him feel dirty, makes him feel like his feelings belong somewhere hidden, behind the bars of a ribcage and invisible. But they do not. He knows that they do not, and so does Tooru, but nothing has ever really stopped Tooru from making fun of things he can’t achieve himself.  

_It takes courage, to wear your heart out like that_ , Tooru’d once mumbled to him, late at night when he thought Hajime was asleep. _I wish I was strong like you, Iwa-chan_. 

Hajime could’ve argued that Tooru _is_ strong, stronger than anyone he's ever met, but that would’ve blown his cover, and been a debate that lasted too many hours to count. Hajime, instead, took the compliment to heart and vowed to be the strongest Tooru had ever seen, if only to keep Tooru's eyes solely on him. 

 

He is slaving over university choices and websites, the words about the common exam just starting to blur together into something incoherent, when there’s a soft knock on his door. He frowns, knowing that his mother went to bed a solid two hours ago, and that his father is overseas and not due to come back for another week. 

He rolls his chair over to the door and slides it open, only to find himself face to face with Tooru and that infuriatingly loose T-shirt of his. The picture of a multicoloured cat across his torso stares down at Hajime with sparkling eyes, and he looks away, cursing Tooru’s adorableness and what it does to his body heat, as well as his own brain for making the connection between a cartoon cat and his own boyfriend.

“I used your spare key,” Tooru says by way of greeting, “hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” Hajime admits. Tooru smiles, and pushes past him to fling himself down onto Hajime’s bed. It’s elevated, unlike Tooru’s futon, always placed on the floor, and he falls into it with an over exaggerated moan. 

Tooru’s voice is muffled by Hajime’s comforter. “Your blankets are always so _fluffy_ , Iwa-chan.” 

Hajime glances back at his desk, where university applications await, and back to Tooru, who has rolled over and is beckoning Hajime into his embrace, arms wide open, rosy cheeks and a shining smile on his face. 

University choices may be important, but not when his whole world is lying down on his bed like that, finally inviting him in, ready to fit in his arms.

Hajime rushes to the bathroom and brushes his teeth at record speed, spitting the mint-flavoured foam out and rinsing his mouth so fast that he drools all over his shirt. He winces when the wet material touches his chest, the cold of the water a stark contrast to the heat of his skin, but forgets about it on the account that Tooru is still waiting, still wanting, just as Hajime is. 

When he steps back into the room, there is no hesitance. He makes his way to the bed with sure steps and drops his weight on Tooru, who wheezes at the contact but does not complain. Tooru’s hands come up to clench at the material of Hajime’s shirt, right over his shoulders, fingers winding into the blue fabric. 

“I missed you,” Tooru says. 

“I missed you too,” Hajime answers. 

Tooru smiles up at him, and Hajime waits for that tiny little flicker across Tooru’s face, the one that tells him it’s okay to bend down and kiss him, ravage him, suck the skin of Tooru’s neck into his mouth and mark him up, drowning in the sweet chorus of Tooru’s moans. 

Tooru’s grin widens, pulling lips over teeth and Hajime looks away, because sometimes Tooru is so beautiful that it makes him feel like a battering ram has crashed into his ribs. 

“Do you want to kiss me, Iwa-chan?” Tooru queries, snapping Hajime out of his trance, lithe fingers pressing into Hajime’s cheek to make him face his boyfriend once more.

“Of course I do,” Hajime breathes. “But you already knew that.”

Tooru laughs, a soft, gentle sound. Hajime resists the urge to close his eyes and bask in the sound, because he wants to see Tooru, wants to see just when his guard falls and he allows himself to jump freely into their physical intimacy. 

It’s a tiny shift, really, but Hajime’s seen it often enough to remember every single minute change. The tightness around Tooru's eyes fades, the wrinkle to his nose comes back, because he’s grinning and snorting to himself, happy to be open, free. His brow smoothes out and Hajime leans down to press his lips to Tooru’s forehead, and then leans down to kiss his cheek, then his other cheek, and then his chin, all the while basking in the sound of Tooru’s laughter, in the small, high pitched _‘Iwa-chan!’_ s that leave his lips each time Hajime presses his mouth to his skin. 

Hajime hovers over Tooru, listens to the way Tooru’s breath hitches in anticipation. He leans in, just a fraction of a centimetre, until their lips are but a hair’s breadth away. He lets himself breathe in the scent of Tooru’s toothpaste, almost tasting it on his tongue, and then pulls back. He takes in the sight of his best friend, of his boyfriend. Tooru’s hair is a mess. He's got bags under his eyes from the last few days of staying up late and texting Hajime countless obscure facts, and there’s a sprinkling of late blooming acne on his chin. His cheeks are bright red, and he’s frowning, upset at Hajime’s teasing. 

Hajime finds himself grinning down at his boyfriend, satisfaction pooling at the pit of his stomach and spreading warmth upward, curling around his heart. 

“Do you want to kiss me, Tooru?” he asks. Tooru pouts. He attempts to cross his arms, but Hajime’s weight on top of him is solid, and he gives up, instead wrapping his fingers around Hajime’s forearms and tugging. 

“Please,” he whispers.

_You know I do._

Hajime meets Tooru’s gaze, want looking at want, and complies.

 

They’re both warm, and comfortable, and wrapped around each other. Kissing is exhausting, Hajime found out a while ago, but Tooru seems to be the one to run out of steam the easiest. He’s half lying across Hajime’s chest, and is pressing his lips, ever so softly, to the curve of his neck, no longer able to do much more. His eyes are fluttering shut every few seconds, and he slurs through his words. 

Tooru has a hickey blooming right along the sharp angle of his collarbone, and Hajime wonders if he’ll get upset. He also knows there are more, hidden beneath Tooru’s shirt. Hajime is half grateful that Tooru is lying on his stomach, because he doesn’t think he has the strength to look the multicoloured cat in the eye, right now. 

As if on cue, Tooru pushes himself up, revealing the cat’s sparkling eyes to Hajime, and Hajime feels his face heat up. God damnit. He reaches over and clasps Tooru’s wrist in his hand.

“I should go home,” Tooru mumbles. “Before mom realises I’m gone.”

“You have a few hours.” Hajime’s hold tightens around his arm.

Tooru turns away from him, shaking himself out of Hajime’s grasp with the movement, and begins looking for his sweatpants. Hajime’d thrown them to the floor at some point, but it seems that they’ve disappeared, because Tooru crawls to the edge of the bed and peeks underneath it, grumbling to himself. 

“I know,” he finally replies, humming triumphantly when he finds them beneath Hajime's school bag and pulls them up to his chest, “but I have a date tomorrow.”

Hajime frowns. “A date?”

“Chika-chan asked me to attend a mixer.”

“And?”

“Chika-chan’s mom is friends with my mom,” Tooru explains slowly, looking down at his lap and fiddling with the waistband of his pants, and suddenly it makes sense. 

“She expects you to get a girlfriend.” 

The word tastes a little bitter on Hajime’s tongue, simply because he knows Tooru would, that he would pretend to love a girl, if it means that his mother would find peace. He’s done it before, though it didn’t work out well. _Too involved with volleyball, and with your ‘Iwa-chan’_ , she’d spat. 

That’s the other side of the problem. Tooru can’t pretend he doesn’t love Hajime, not forever, and that harms all involved parties. The girls Tooru dates don’t deserve it, Tooru doesn’t deserve it, Hajime doesn’t deserve it.

“Yes.”

“You couldn’t say you’re busy?”

“Well it is Monday, we don’t have practice and Chika-chan knows that very well.” Tooru faces Hajime to grace him with a bitter smile. "One of the downsides to having a fanclub, wouldn't you say, Iwa-chan?"

“So you’re just going to go?”

Tooru nods.

Hajime grunts, taking in the defeated slope of Tooru’s shoulders. 

"You're not going to break a heart for me, are you?" he tries to joke, pushing himself up on his elbows. Tooru looks up at him, surprised.

"I would break every heart in the world if it meant I could be with you," he claims, turning away from Hajime once again to slide his pants on. There's a smile in his voice when he speaks up again. "But you already knew that.”

Hajime snorts, dropping his weight back to the bed and burying his face into his pillow, smothering his smile.

"I did." 

**Author's Note:**

> i promise i'm actually writing interesting 20k+ au's and not only boring 2k one shots.


End file.
